Like Buying A Car

I saw this chick on TV recently talking about how to get a boyfriend to the altar. She basically said getting engaged is lot like buying a new car. She was hilarious and actually reminded me of you the way she used humor to hold facts at gunpoint. Only point of difference being that SHE WAS FUNNY AND YOU’RE NOT. Ha, ha, a taste of your own medicine. Anyway, reason I’m writing is that she actually referenced you. Do you know her personally? And do you agree with her? Do you really believe you can get a guy the way you’d get a car?

– Fascinated

Hey Woody,

I saw this chick on TV recently talking about how to get a boyfriend to the altar. She basically said getting engaged is lot like buying a new car. She was hilarious and actually reminded me of you the way she used humor to hold facts at gunpoint. Only point of difference being that SHE WAS FUNNY AND YOU’RE NOT. Ha, ha, a taste of your own medicine. Anyway, reason I’m writing is that she actually referenced you. Do you know her personally? And do you agree with her? Do you really believe you can get a guy the way you’d get a car?

– Fascinated

Dear Fascinated,

Yes, I know the happy-go-lucky, isn’t-the-world-great, I-got-a-marriage-proposal-at-the-top-of-the-Eiffel-Tower Dating Nazi. Is there anything more annoying than a woman who’s got it all and tells you everything?

Actually, I love Lisa Daily, the “Director of Love” at Cupid.com and author of Stop Getting Dumped! True, I rarely take her advice, but I quote her often. And really, isn’t that the best compliment a hypocrite like me could pay?

So I rang her up the other day and asked her what the hell you were blabbering about:

Woody: What’s this shit you’re peddling that banging a guy is like buying a car?

Lisa: You idiot. I said, “Marrying a guy is like buying a car.”

Woody: Oh.

Lisa: Look, if a guy in a plaid polyester suit and a bad rug can get your man to sign on the dotted line, so can you. Well, maybe not YOU, woody, but most people with, you know, a personality.

Woody: Watch it, woman. I’ll bribe your hairdresser. You’ll walk out with a James Brown pompadour–fried, dyed, and laid to the side.

Lisa: God, you’re impossible! Regardless, here’s what I said: Make sure he can pass the credit check. A lot of times we’re so worried about whether or not he wants to marry us, we don’t take the time to make sure we want to marry him. I’m not talking about money here – I’m talking about important things, like …

Woody: Good hair, big pecs, ripped abs. I gotcha. Go on.

Lisa: No, fool! I mean, honesty, charm, humor, education, that type of thing. You know, all the characteristics you lack.

Woody: That hurts me.

Lisa: Right. Back to cars. Don’t try to sell him a minivan if he wants flashy sports model. Truth is, a guy already knows what he wants by the time he walks into the dealership. The same is true in relationships. If your guy doesn’t want to settle down don’t try to talk him into a suburban daddy lifestyle. You may pressure him into the deal, but it won’t be long before he’s miserable and suffering from buyers’ remorse. He’ll figure out a way to trade you in for the model he really wanted.

Woody: So, he has to know there are other buyers in the market.

Lisa: Exactly. Nothing is more appealing than a car that everybody wants and nobody can get. So what happens when there are a lot of buyers in the market, and not enough cars to go around? The waiting list. Date at least three men at a time. Men are intensely competitive, and their attraction to you will increase tenfold if they sense another buyer in the showroom.

Woody: Your advice is sound but me, if I were doing a car metaphor, I’d recommend buying one that likes having sex in the back seat.

I read your answer to “smelly” (how to tell your new boyfriend his crotch smells like a grease-encrusted vomit bucket). Loved your answer but wanted to add a different dimension to the problem. I’m one of those guys who smell down there because I sweat so much. It’s very embarrassing. It doesn’t take much to soak my shirt. I could be in a mildly warm bar and sweat like I’m a whore in church. Any advice for people like me?